


Plankton Thieves of Uzebi

by Sholio



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Gen, Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: Peter has a plan. It's a brilliant plan, unless you ask literally everyone he knows.





	Plankton Thieves of Uzebi

**Author's Note:**

> For this delightful prompt on Tumblr: _Maybe something post gotg1 in which Peter has to fake his death for a job, and isn't expecting much of a response from Yondu because he's already severed those bonds, but...?_
> 
> I really meant to do more angst, but this happened instead.

Good jobs were hard to come by these days -- all the more, Yondu thought, when you were tryin' to dig your way out of a four billion credit hole. Not to mention Stakar and his 99 cursed Ravager clans had been prosperous lately, which meant they'd squeezed Yondu's boys out a lot of the more profitable sectors.

So the _Eclector's_ crew were scraping by, skimming cargos from merchant vessels and hunting bounties, for the most part. And yeah, Yondu knew there were murmurings among the crew, knew more than a few blades were being sharpened for his back. Wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last. Staying alert for someone trying to shove a knife between your shoulders was everyday business when his business consisted of running a pirate gang composed of thieves, thugs, and mercenaries.

(And if he sometimes thought of the days when he'd had a better class of thugs to call his own, well, those days were gone. His crew still had a backbone of solid, loyal people, and the good days would come around again.)

In the meantime, he spent a lot of hours alone in his quarters, skimming through the galactic newsfeeds and finding jobs to send his boys out on. It was Quill's name that caught his eye -- not a surprise, wouldn't be the first planet the kid was wanted on, and it was pure curiosity that made him start reading it (just keeping tabs on the little bastard, see what he was up to these days). It took him a couple of lines to realize he was reading an obituary.

_Peter Quill, hero of the Battle of Xandar, was confirmed dead in a rare Krylorian sharknado, a local weather phenomenon in which severe localized winds sweep up oceanic predatory fish in a whirling spiral of death. Quill was attempting to rescue a boatload of orphans from a sudden storm when his body was obliterated beyond recognition --_

Yondu's first reaction was a feeling akin to being kicked very hard in the stomach. If he were willing to examine that feeling a little more closely, there might be a whole lot of feelings underneath there that he was refusing to give too much thought to.

His second reaction was a suspicious squint at the screen.

 

\--

 

"Good plan, huh? Good plan!" Peter declared, poking at the screen while flashing a triumphant grin over his shoulder at his erstwhile crew.

"Excellent plan!" (Drax, followed immediately by, "What plan?")

"Terrible plan." (Gamora. She thought all his plans were terrible, so nothing unusual there.) 

"I am Groot!" (Tiny, shrill, and cheerful.)

"Pass the biphasic decoupler, wouldja?" (Rocket. Not listening.)

"Guys! Come on! We can't operate easily in Uzebi space because they're one of the most bureaucratic planets in the entire Hoffed Confederacy, papers and retinal scans for _everything,_ and I'm wanted there, but not if I'm ..." He flicked his fingers lightly across the screen. "Daniel Hasselson, Terran purchaser of rare biological specimens. No relation at all to Peter Quill, who died a week ago on Kryloria in a freak accident. The important thing is, Uzebi doesn't keep retinal scans or DNA on file for dead people. And we can waltz off with a shipload of Uzebi psychic plankton, which are dead cheap here because they're a pest species, but are incredibly expensive --"

"And illegal," Gamora added.

"... and frowned on by the _morality police_ \--"

"-- also the actual police --"

"-- in the Nova Empire, where they're regarded as an illicit drug."

"Due to being an illicit drug."

"Gamora," Peter said, "if you have a problem with the plan, just say so. I mean, the way I see it, we're doing them a favor, taking a biological pest off the hands of the Uzebi, by purchasing it through totally legal channels --"

"And then becoming drug dealers in one of the few places in the galaxy that we are considered heroes rather than wanted criminals."

"Only because that's the only place it's worth any money. And," Peter added, grinning, "it is worth a _lot_ of money."

Rocket waved a paw in the air. "I'm in."

"I thought you would be."

"I am Groooot!"

"I ... have no idea what that means, but I'm guessing it has nothing to do with the current topic."

"He wants to be moved closer to the sunlamp." Rocket straightened up, brushing grease off his palms, and rotated Groot's pot. "There ya go, little buddy."

"Anyway, see? Good plan? In, out, what could possibly go wrong --"

 

\--

 

"This," Gamora yelled at Peter, "was a terrible plan!"

"There's no need to shout!" Peter covered his ears with his hands, as if it made the slightest difference. "I can hear you just fine if you _don't talk at all._ I can also hear every single --" He scowled at Drax. "If you have to go so bad, just go!"

"I prefer not to defecate while departing a planet's atmosphere. There are sudden pressure changes which can cause --"

"Aargh! Stop!"

Rocket had very discreetly skulked off to the farthest corner of the Milano, which made absolutely no difference whatsoever, since it was not a large ship and most parts of it were equally far from the cargo hold, currently full of barrels of psychic plankton.

"I am starting to see why these tiny beasts are considered a pest species," Gamora groaned, pressing her fists to her temples. "Peter, _what_ is that monstrous thing you are thinking of?"

"It's an elephant," Peter said between his teeth. "From Earth."

"I assumed it was some manner of oddly deformed Earth animal, but what bearing does it have on the present situation?"

"None!" Peter said triumphantly. "None whatsoever! On Earth, it's what we think of when we're trying not to think about -- oh, _fuck_ \-- Gamora, I swear that wasn't your, I mean, any part of you -- ow, Gamora, that's my _ear_ , I need that --"

 

\---

 

They ended up jettisoning the psychic plankton cargo just outside Uzebi orbit because there was _no freaking way_ they were willing to go through a twenty-jump journey to Nova space like this.

As the plankton barrels tumbled gently above the planet's seven small moons, freezing rapidly in the utter cold of space and extinguishing, one thread at a time, the psychic warp and weft that had been woven between the crew, Peter looked up. He thought he'd felt, for a moment, a quick flicker of profound relief and annoyance and possibly just a bit of pride.

He couldn't imagine where it had come from; there was no close traffic. They were all alone out here, away from major Uzebi shipping lanes and headed as quickly as possible for the jump point.

Some of the sources he'd read while he was researching this job had suggested that the plankton, in sufficient concentrations, were capable of establishing psychic connections to loved ones anywhere in the galaxy, but that wasn't possible in this case since everyone he (loved) cared about was here on this ship, and anyway --

Anyway, it was gone now.

**Author's Note:**

> Really, the problem is that Yondu taught Peter just about every trick he knows, and Yondu is legally dead on at least a dozen planets.


End file.
